_THE RUIN_

I led thy thoughts, having them for my own,
To where my God His head to thee did bend.
I bore thee in my bosom to His throne.
O, the blest labour, and the treasured end!

Now like a ruined aqueduct I go
Unburdened; thou by more fleet ways hast been
With Him. Since thou thine own swift road dost know,
Thou canst not brook such slow and devious mean.


_THE DREAM_

I slept, and thought a letter came from you--
You did not love me any more, it said.
What breathless grief!--my love not true, not true ...
I was afraid of people, and afraid
Of things inanimate--the wind that blew,
The clock, the wooden chair; and so I strayed
From home, but could not stray from grief, I knew.
And then at dawn I woke, and wept, and prayed,
And knew my blessed love was still the same;--
And yet I sit and moan upon the bed
For that dream-creature's loss. For when I came
(I came, perhaps, to comfort her) she fled.
I would be with her where she wanders now,